New Zealand 1998

Thursday, 2 April

The car must go back today but not till one, if I can think of anything to do until then. I left the hostel just after eight and drove out Tamaki Drive, stopped at Bastion Point for a while (still hazy), then into Cornwall Park where I picked up the Auckland Coast to Coast Walk leaflet and decided to get rid of the car now.

In Onehunga at half past ten, I stopped at a filling station where the lass pointed out the car hire office just across the road; which was just as well as it said Auckland Car Rentals on a large sign and Shoestring on a very small sign. There was no-one at the office so the lass at the filling station let me use the phone to call the alternative number. The man was out delivering a car, he said I should just leave the car and put the keys through the letterbox and all the paperwork could be sent to Glasgow. Very good.

I set of to walk back, the route was not well signposted at the Onehunga end, at least not for walking in this direction but I managed with the help of the leaflet and was soon making steady progress, at least for a mile, as far as Royal Oak where I decided it was time for lunch and went into a cafe. I ordered tea and what turned out to be a pizza base with some solid pieces of Cajun chicken (and other more mundane stuff) on it. Back on the road, the route went into Cornwall Park and up the slopes of Maungakiekie (keikei = some sort of climbing plant) otherwise known as One Tree Hill. The cloud was a bit thicker and I had barely reached the top when the rain started, wind driven at quite a sharp angle which made it easy to shelter behind the base of the monument.

The rain went off – on – off and I made it down the hill to a good shelter tree before the next shower. When that went off, I carried on and the next shower caught me in the vicinity of the olive grove — olive trees are not good umbrellas. But that was the last shower before I reached the top of Maungawhau (whau = a type of tree) otherwise known as Mt. Eden, where I sheltered under the eaves of the RF station. From there, I descended and made my way through the Domain and into the city, reaching the Ferry Building about twenty past four to complete the walk.

I stuck my head into the Maritime Museum but they knew nothing of the Daldy’s sailing schedule but they knew where it was moored so I wandered round there, it was deserted, but I noted two phone numbers for information. Then I spotted the Auckland branch of the Loaded Hog brew-pub and went in for a quality check (and a free box of matches).

Back at the hostel, it was time to do some laundry. I was watching the dryer go round when I was accosted by an Irishman, John Anderson, a bigwig in the Northern Ireland YHA who thought he recognised me from somewhere. Since we both have been travelling around NZ for a couple of months, we didn’t try to work out where, just chatted generally about our hostelling experiences. Then I went to bed.

Friday, 3 April

Having been depressed by the deserted state of the station the other night, I decided to check it out at a more auspicious time and headed down to watch the morning departures. First was the 0804 Geyserland Express, the reintroduced service to Rotorua (or rather to nearly within walking distance of that town). The train is a Silver Fern unit, displaced from the Auckland – Wellington service when they decided that locomotive-hauled trains offered more flexibility. I don’t know why the units have been renumbered RM18, 24 and 30 rather than RM1, 2, 3, though I suspect it is something to do with the self-checking engine numbering system (the Auckland – Wellington service was above such mundane considerations). Another set works Tauranga – Auckland – Tauranga as the Kaimai Express and the third is on maintenance / standby.

After the Geyserland left, the Overland reversed out of the station without passengers and returned just before it’s 0830 departure time after receiving some sort of engineering attention. It finally got away at 0845 via Newmarket (the Geyserland had left via the Deviation). It seems the station redevelopment offers more flexibility in routing.

The excitement over, it was into town and I found myself in the vicinity of the new Sky City casino, upmarket shops, hotel, bus station etc., with a tower on top, (allegedly) the highest in the Southern Hemisphere. So I went up the tower, $15 for access to the standard observation decks, an extra $3 for the Skydeck, a bit higher but with no facilities. I took a few photographs from there (through the glass) and then descended to the Outdoor Observation Deck which was also glassed in, except for a couple of feet of grille above the glass. This deck also has a ring of structure obstructing the downward view whereas the main deck had glass panels in the floor.

Back at ground level, I headed for the tobacconist in the Queen Street Arcade. This had changed hands and the price of tobacco was above the norm, but needs must and I couldn’t be bothered looking for another source. Then I went to check out some pubs. The Stables off Fort Street had very expensive beer (well, it’s in the red light district), the Queen’s Ferry which used to be a small place up a side street, has moved to Queen Street next to the BNZ building and was pretty busy and noisy so I didn’t go in. The Occidental, next door to where the Queen’s Ferry used to be was much as I remembered it, very pleasant. The Queen’s Head, further up Queen Street, had been closed for redevelopment when I left Auckland, it has now reopened on the ground floor and is very plush (not that it wasn’t before).

By now, it was time to collect my slides. They looked reasonable so I had a couple of pints of Black Mac (in a thin glass) in an Irish pub on Victoria Street before returning to the hostel for a wash and brush up. I went to look at the site of the former Astor Hotel on the corner of Symonds Street and the Khyber Pass, a frequent haunt in days gone by, now demolished, then looked into the Edinburgh Castle but it was busy and noisy so I went for a curry instead and retired.

Saturday, 4 April

Phoned home, all is well. Time to change rooms so I packed up all my gear and stashed it in the caboose as the new room was not yet ready. I headed for the Daldy again, more in hope than in expectation. There was a work party aboard but public sailings have ceased for the winter. Oh, well. I went into the Maritime Museum, new since my last stay, and found it very interesting. There was a room of ship models, about 15 or so, mostly Clyde built. There was a bit more coverage of yachting than I would have provided but that’s NZ for you.

Lunch in the cafeteria was quite good until I suddenly remembered that I wanted to buy some maps and had to rush off uptown to the Visitor Centre in Aotea Square where I was informed that there was a map shop in Albert Street (The Specialty (sic) Map Shop) but it probably closed 15 minutes ago. The lass phoned to check and it was still open until one. A brisk walk got me there with minutes to spare, the manager was very pleasant and I bought five maps and was given a photocopy of the reference grid.

I went back to consider the merits of the Maritime Museum shop and was very disappointed. It was a waste of time, almost exclusively commercial Line 7 leisure wear and Americas Cup 2000 fund-raisers. Nothing informative or historical.

I stopped for another quick beer in the Occidental on the way back to the hostel to check the accommodation situation, all was well in that department, and I continued over the Grafton Bridge and past the Oaks Motel where I stayed for the first two weeks in 1986. The restaurant had become a bar/bistro. Down the hill I went to the Strand and up Parnell Rise, still trendy, but it seemed very subdued for a Saturday evening (the Windsor Castle was not open). The north end of Newmarket has been redeveloped, the Royal George has become the Broadway and was dominated by large television screens, the Carlton has made a big jump to respectability, a trendy bar with dolly bird barmaids and a busy restaurant (the steak was good) at the back. I took a pint there, one in the Broadway, then walked up the Khyber Pass (the bottle store was now an office furniture warehouse) for a last pint in the Edinburgh Castle before returning to the hostel and bed.

Sunday, April 5 (1)

My pack had fitted in the smallest luggage locker at Wellington Railway station so I went for the smallest locker in the hostel basement, $1 for 12 hours (saving 50 cents). This time, however, it proved more difficult to get it in. I had to remove the books from the top pocket and even so, it was a bit of a struggle. However, I managed with more shove than push, and set of along the Karangahape Road and Great North Road for MOTAT.

It was just before opening time when I arrived so I enjoyed a pleasant stroll round the lake in the park before going in. There is a new Activities and Events hall but apart from that, things seemed much the same, except that the trolley bus wires have been removed and the Auckland trolley bus is now indoors as a static exhibit. Auckland tram No.11 is under cover and looks in need of a coat of paint. There was no activity in the steam hall though the boiler was simmering.

After a wander around and a light lunch in the cafe, I took the tram (Wellington No.257) round to the Zoo terminus and walked on the Aeroplane Park in search of the railway. There is a large new hanger housing most of the aeroplanes, including the Lancaster and the Solent while the “new” Lancaster hanger of my last visit is now a workshop where a Bristol (freighter?) is being restored. Only two planes are still in the open, one of which is the Sunderland currently being renovated by the RNZAF.

At the other end of the site, there is some new building in progress for the railway but there was no activity and the rolling stock in the open was looking very dilapidated. I will assume the operating stock was in the locked sheds.

After the tram ride back on Auckland No.248 (which has recently had the bodywork overhauled), I inspected the souvenir shop and was disappointed to find no interesting books on maritime or rail transport so bought only a few fridge magnets featuring tram and trains.

As I left the site, I noticed that the name has been changed to the Museum of Transport, Technology and Social History - MOTTASH - but the abbreviation remains MOTAT.

My route back into town was through Ponsonby (where I noticed only one pub but lots of cafe bars!), down to the Fishing Harbour and into the Loaded Hog (well, it was a warm day). Just a couple of beers, one each of Red Dog and Hogshead, and a plate of nachos to pass for lunch.

On my return to the hostel to recover my pack, the locker refused to open. It was difficult to get any leverage on the door and the minute allowed for opening passed before I could get it open. I sought assistance from the front desk and the lad came down with the keys and set supervisor mode but even he couldn’t get it open until I had a brainwave and gave the lock a good dunt. That worked. He was impressed by the size of the pack in relation to the size of the locker.

All this meant that I had missed the five past six airport bus but they run every twenty minutes so I had not long to wait for the next one. It follows a circuitous route around various accommodations and while we were sitting outside an hotel in Custom Street, a large number of fire appliances arrived at the building opposite. We could see no sign of smoke but our driver explained that there is a pre-set level of response to any alarm in the CBD, and it is pretty high.

When we reached the airport, I transferred some of the heavier items (books) from the big pack to the day pack and checked in. I’d been wasting my time, the pack weighed only 16.9kg. The bag was booked through to Glasgow, somewhat to my surprise as I had expected to pass through customs at Heathrow. We’ll see what happens when I get there.

I paid the departure tax of $20 and proceeded to the bar for a couple of beers and a smoke (probably the last before I get home) before going through to the departure lounge. Erinmore was $30 for 250gms - $6 a tin as against a street price of $17 (but cheaper than Sydney duty free which was AU$29.95). Decided against buying whisky on the assumption that it might be cheaper at Los Angeles. Beer was the same price as outside, I don’t know if it’s too complicated to separate the supplies or if it’s profiteering.

We were a little late boarding the plane, flight QF101 code sharing with BA1484 and a US airline; I don’t know if there was a local difficulty or if the plane had arrived late from Melbourne. After take-off, the drinks trolley cam round and I asked for a beer, VB was supplied so no complaints there. The meal offered a choice of fillet of beef with Madeira sauce or penne with mushrooms and asparagus. Since I’d no idea what penne is, I opted for the beef which was ok. The couple beside me also had beef but then the bloke asked for a second meal (he was well over six feet and built in proportion) and got the penne - steamed (grilled?) white fish which looked like whiting or sole. I think the film was “As good as it gets” but I immersed myself in my book. At some point we crossed the International Date Line and it was Sunday again.

Sunday, 5 April (2)

I continued to read with occasional opening of the blind to see where we were. When it was light outside, we were over fairly continuous cloud so I left the blind down most of the time and it was the lady in front of me who got the “Would you put the blind down please” as the cabin crew tried to maintain the notion of night. We were about three hours out of Los Angeles when the second film came on (the latest James Bond featuring Pearce Brosnan?) and there began to be signs of life in the cabin. “Brunch” offered a choice of spinach frittata with button mushrooms or a mixed grill. By the time the trolley reached me, mixed grills were in short supply but some extras were found from other trolleys. I’m told spinach frittata is something like a quiche.

It was about half past ten Auckland time, half past three local time when we arrived at Los Angeles. Transit passengers were escorted to a lounge, given a snack voucher (not to exceed $5) and left to our own devices for a couple of hours. The snacks available were limited to some very pallid hot dogs, popcorn or crisps so in view of my past experience of North American tea, I decided to keep the voucher for a souvenir.

We were late boarding flight BA282 for the next leg to London, apparently the plane had been late leaving Heathrow, but the pilot expected to make up the time in the air. It was another Boeing 474-400 but with a different internal configuration. I had an aisle seat at the rear of the plane where it narrows to two seats at either side. The window seat was occupied by a lady from the Belfast area.

The two inside seats in the row in front were occupied by two young English ladies who had a tendency to “move with the music” causing considerable shaking of the table of the lady beside me. However, they stopped when asked but they must have been kicking the seat in front as well as some time later, when the male occupant of that window seat turned to remonstrate with them, one of the young ladies decided she was being assaulted and started screaming. The cabin staff smoothed over the incident and the bloke was seated elsewhere.

The evening meal offered a choice of balsamic marinated breast of chicken with summer vegetables and pesto potatoes or shrimp on a bed of pasta in a light olive oil dressing with tomato concassée. I decided on the second but was confused when the stewardess offered a choice of chicken or fish so I enquired if it actually was fish or shrimp. She had smoked haddock on her menu, which would have been very acceptable but it was indeed shrimp - she was still using the menu from the outward flight. The (five) shrimps were ok.

I forget what the first film was, after all, I was reading my book. The night passed as most nights do and towards morning, I obtained a beer when the cabin crew started distributing orange and water.

Monday, 6 April

The second film was the same James Bond film that had been shown on the Auckland - Los Angeles leg. Breakfast was a very limited affair, juice, yoghurt, cereal (individual portions in pots which doubled as dishes with a very small carton of milk) and a small roll.

We would have arrived at Heathrow on time but were stacked for ten minutes over Watford before we got down. From Terminal 4, a bus transfer to Terminals 1 & 2, passed through immigration and was out in the world - no customs. At the Shuttle check in, I asked what would happen about my bag and they said I should collect it at Glasgow. Oh well.

We boarded the plane on time but just when we should have been leaving the gate, the pilot announced that due to the presence of heavy shower clouds in the area, the take-off rate had been reduced and there would be a short delay. Ten minutes later, we got moving and joined a queue for the runway. About eight planes took off before us and we were about half an hour late getting airborne.

Tea and a sandwich were served followed by the drinks trolley. I asked for a beer and was offered Heineken or Grolsch, neither of which I would classify as beer. However I took the Grolsch. The pilot announced that he was going as fast as possible to make up time so we were only twenty minutes late at Glasgow. There was a fair amount of cloud on the way up but once we dropped below it I had a good view over Uddingston, Baillieston and the north and west of the city.

At the terminal, there were no formalities. Baggage from connecting flights originating outside the EC came out on a different carousel but there was no obvious customs presence. I picked up the pack and went outside where a small shuttle bus was at the stance. There was a small queue and when the CityLink bus pulled in behind, I got on that one. and was soon at Buchanan Street bus station.

I decided to take a red bus, the next was a 240 from stance 22. When I got there, there was another bus parked in the stance but a 40 came into a nearby stance and changed its number to 240. The driver then got out and disappeared, reappearing several minutes after the due departure time. As we travelled along Argyle Street, I looked around and the thought crossed my mind - surely I haven’t been away for five months?

As I got off the bus at Tollcross, I saw a 61 to Motherwell - it looks like I’ll have to get some new timetables pretty quickly. Five minutes later, I was home.